


Just scared and confused

by thoughtfullyyoungduck



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Losers Club (IT), Mentioned Pennywise (IT)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23044189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtfullyyoungduck/pseuds/thoughtfullyyoungduck
Summary: Richie has a nightmare, and has no idea what is real or not when he wakes up.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	Just scared and confused

When Richie opens his eyes, he sitting at their kitchen table. He doesn’t remember how he got there, or even what he did before sitting there, but he is. 

He looks around in confusion, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. His hand are shaking though, so Richie places them firmly on the surface of the table, feeling the indents of woods under his touch.

Their kitchen table is made of wood. Eddie chose it, despite Richie’s claims that they could use his old table he used to eat on. Eddie had scoffed, in the way that Richie knew meant he had something stupid, before Eddie had said that he wanted a new table, because his table was old as shit and who knew what had happened on there.

As the two looked for a new house to move in together, they chucked out all old furniture and in place of those they went shopping. Eddie hated it, but Richie had never had so much fun in his life before. He drove Eddie crazy by plowing down into beds, pretending to eat on tables and stretching out over couches as if he already owned the damn thing.

‘I’m going to fucking leave you’, he had said after they were thrown out of another store. The fleeting feeling of absolute panic in Richie disappeared after he saw Eddie’s fond smirk, but the words stuck with him. After he and Eddie got together, Richie discovered that he was a teeny tiny bit touched starved. Alright a lot touch starved. He never would have expected Eddie to want to be with him, never even considered the possibility that all the emotions Richie was holding in, bright in their intensity, could be reciprocated by his childhood best friend.

Richie never even dared to look too much into the lingering touches they shared as kids, and then later as adults, terrified that if he examined and dissected the sensations he got after touching and being close to Eddie, other people would just know. Just like Henry Bowers did, just like Stan did. He never wanted to be put in a spot where he would have no choice but to come clean, to share his feeling with Eddie and make him uncomfortable, to make Eddie hate him.

When they became lovers as he had so jokingly called them, a flashback to the time where Eddie had broken his arm, but also a memory of times where Richie had to hide the core of his very being, Richie used every opportunity to touch him. Eddie selflessly allowed him, reciprocating with the same ferocity, and yet still Richie didn’t feel at ease.

Just like when he was a kid, he was scared that if he truly showed Eddie how deep he loved him, he would be disgusted, and see Richie just like he viewed himself, as disgusting.

As a result, he consistently felt anxiety, whether it was going on a date with Eddie or making love for the first time. The task of taken the lead had fallen on Richie, which he didn’t mind, but he was always stressed when he wanted to initiate something new into their relationship. He was scared Eddie would wake up one day and come to the conclusion that Richie isn’t enough for him.

To no one’s surprise, Richie kept those thoughts to himself, withering away with the weight to put upon him.

Because the table consisted of wood, Eddie demanded that they had placing mats on the table at all times, terrified of stains seeping into the new table. They’re a light green color, which fits in the room beautifully, at least that’s what Eddie’s been saying to him. Richie doesn’t mind them, but he wouldn’t care whether or not there were stains anywhere in the house. It a sign that there are living people in this house. Regardless, them being missing is what ticked Richie off that there was something wrong. They weren’t there anymore, and when he looks around, he doesn’t see them anywhere either.

Richie’s heartbeat picks up even though he wills it away again. He’s being stupid, he tells himself. Eddie probably just wanted to clean them and he didn’t notice, everything is fine.

Except that it’s not. He hears before sees Eddie come out of the room with a giant carton box in his hands. It looks heavy, and Eddie puffs with exhaustion before dumping the box next to the others.

Richie only now takes notices of all the box placed neatly upon each other, right in front of the door.

‘Eds’, Richie asks trailing off. He freezes, all his muscles tighten up and panic washes over him like ice cold water, as soon as Eddie looks at his direction.

It’s clear Eddie’s been crying, his eyes red while the rest of his face is an icy white. He looks sick to his stomach, his mouth trembling as if trying not to talk or cry anymore. He’s failing.

‘What are you doing’? He asks when Eddie doesn’t respond to Richie calling out his name. Even though Richie is panicked, he knows that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to take Eddie’s pain away, they’ve been through so much, and Eddie deserves the whole galaxy as far as Richie was concerned.

He told him that once after they woke up in the same bed for the first time since they were adults. Their limbs were woven, Eddie’s head on Richie’s outstretched arm, while his arm was tracing random patrons into his skin. Richie had pressed a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder, while mumbling that all he ever wanted to do was make Eddie happy. It had been a serene moment, one that Richie would hold close, written in his heart.

Right now, he jumps up from his chair, rushing towards Eddie, but he stops dead in his tracks when Eddie flinches away from him. His chair makes a shrieking sounds as it drags across the floor, Richie whines, knowing Eddie absolutely hates that sound. He doesn’t respond though, and that worries Richie’s. 

‘Don’t do this again Richie.’ He mumbles, and he sounds so tired, like he’s 80 years old. Just hearing the sound of that makes Richie want to cry. He pushes back against the burning feeling of tears forcing their way down his face, but he suspect that makes it even more obvious to Eddie that he’s going to start crying.

‘Don’t Richie’, he says, his voice hard like a jagged edge of a knife. It cuts through Richie, leaving him deflated and confused. He standing a few feet away from Eddie, contemplating whether or not he should touch Eddie.

‘We’ve already talked about this. I’m leaving. I’m going back to Myra and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Richie world feels like it has been shattered. He takes a few stumbling steps backwards, falling back down unto the couch. ‘What’, he croaks out, and this time he’s helpless to stop the tears rushing like waterfalls from his cheeks.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not in a playful way like he usually does, but in a truly annoyed fashion, Richie’s heart crumbles further. It this what a panic attack feels like, Richie thinks delirious. He sits on the edge of their couch, having never felt so dejected before.

‘I’m moving back in,’ he pauses for a second, and Richie who was never good with silence, feels even more suffocate by this one. ‘Richie, this was a mistake. I thought I loved you, but I realized that I just missed you. You’re my best friend, but I don’t love you the way you love me. Quite frankly Richie, it’s really disgusting.

And Richie knows this, he fucking well knows. He spend most of his childhood trying to not be gay, trying to kiss girls and convince himself that he liked it, but the reality is that doesn’t. It’s who he is, and before coming out it was always like Richie was completely alone. Nobody, not a single soul knew who he really was, and the reason for that was that he kept such a huge part of himself hidden, And he was so vulnerable when Eddie woke up, that without thinking he just blurted it out.

Not that he was in love with Eddie, that had taken several months of therapy and adjusting the idea that Eddie wasn’t revolted just because he was gay, but he had confessed to Eddie that he likes men, and only men. And when Eddie had just accepted him, he had been shocked beyond believe. He could finally start to be open towards others and himself, And he was on this journey with Eddie where both of them were learning to love themselves along with each other, and maybe Richie had managed to make himself believe that he wasn’t disgusting.

But hearing Eddie say it right now made him realize that he very much was. All Richie suddenly wanted to do was lay in bed, cry and hide from the world, even from Eddie.

‘Eds, please.’ Richie tried. He was so fucking selfish, but he didn’t think he could live now that he had a taste of how life was like with Eddie. He didn’t think he would be able to spend his days in a house where he and Eddie had bought stuff, the place they made their home.

Richie had never had that before. He had houses, sure, but never a home. He wasn’t ready to loose that. He wasn’t ever ready to say goodbye to Eddie.

‘Don’t fucking call me that’, Eddie spat out, ‘I used to like it when you called me that but now that I know the intent behind it’, he shuddered in disgust. ‘Don’t call me that, in fact don’t call me anything at all. We’re done, I can’t be friends with, with someone like you.’

Something was off with Eddie, and if Richie wasn’t so busy channeling hysteria all through his body, he might have had the mind to pick it up. Eddie has never been this cruel. He has been straightforward and sometimes a little blunt, but only with an intent to help, never to harm. Eddie would never speak to Richie or anyone like that, regardless of what that person did.

Richie leaps of his seating place when Eddie opens the door. The panic Richie feels is all consuming, to the point where he’s not even sure what he’s doing, just that he wants Eddie to stay.

‘Please Eds, Eddie fuck. Please don’t go, please.’ He’s sobbing, not even aware of the embarrassing picture he must present.

‘Can’t we talk about this? I’m sorry for whatever it is I did that made you wanna leave, I can be more calm, I can talk less, I can do whatever it is that makes you happy, just please don’t leave me here by myself.’

He places his hands on Eddie’s shoulder, wanting to hug him close and kiss him, to just be close to him.

Eddie however recoils in horror, whipping at his shoulder at the exact place Richie’s hand had just been.

‘Iel, do you even know what you just did?’ Did you know the bacteria that I could have gotten from you? I don’t want to become you, so don’t you ever fucking touch me again.’ Eddie snaps, his eyes wild in rage, and nothing of his previous sadness is still visible.

‘It’s not about you talking too much. It’s about you being a pathetic excuse of a human being. I’m not fucking gay, Tozier. And even if I was, I would even consider you.’

Eddie reaches for the door knob, twisting it and opening it up despite of Richie’s please.

‘Please don’t leave me Eddie.’ Richie begs, one last attempt to get Eddie to stay. 

Eddie doesn’t even give him a glance, picking up one of the boxes and storming out of the house as if it’s the last place on earth he ever wants to be. He does stop for a second to break the final pieces of Richie’s heart. ‘I wish you wouldn’t have asked again Richie, it made it that much harder for you.’ Then he trudges away to a car which is presumably driven by his wife.

Richie feels all the energy seeping out of him as he watches Eddie go. He doesn’t even try to stop him, knowing that it would be futile. Furthermore, nothing that Eddie said was a lie, he’s a fucking nobody, why would anyone as magnificent as Eddie ever want to be with him.

He laughs, like a lunatic, laugh and laughs until it actually hurts, and then he can’t breathe. He tries to take a deep breath in, but aside from a bit of a miserable stuttering piece of air, nothing reaches his longs. Then he panics. He can’t breathe, he can’t fucking breath, he can’t.

He wakes up to a hand slamming his shoulder.

‘Fuck Richie’, he hears a voice swear loudly, but he can’t focus beyond anything but the fact that still can’t breathe. His eyes are open, but it’s pitch black inside the room he’s in, not a sliver a light shinning through anywhere.

The hand is still on his shoulder, grounding him a bit, before he realizes that it’s Eddie’s hand. His hand traces the flesh of Richie’s skin until he slowly caresses his cheek, all the while Richie is still heaving in breaths.

When he sees it’s Eddie he jumps up in fright, accidently flinging himself off the bed. He lands harshly on the floor letting out a pained yelp as he does so. His back protests, but he doesn’t give himself much time to think about it or to even let it rest, instead his scrabbles up against the nightstand he knows is next to his bed.

‘Richie’, Eddie says worriedly, jumping out of bed to see if he’s okay. Richie’s head hurts. He recognizes he’s in his bedroom now, after his eyes have had some time to adjust to the darkness the room is coted in. It just doesn’t make any sense, he had just watched Eddie walk out of his life, without him being able to do anything about it, how did he end up in bed again with Eddie sleeping next to him.

He starts sobbing, bringing his hands up though his hair, pulling as hard as he can. ‘Richie stop, fucking stop doing that you idiot.’ Eddie reaches out to grab Richie’s hands, but all that does is cause Richie more panic. Richie slaps his hand away pushing himself as far away from Eddie as possible.

Eddie hisses and brings his hand back to his chest with a worried glance. ‘Rich, talk to me’, he begs, but Richie doesn’t do anything but shake his head.

Maybe Eddie decided to stay with him one more night, maybe he felt bad for Richie and decided to check up on him, and that’s why he’s here. No matter what the reason might be, Richie can’t handle it.

He whimpers when he tugs on his hair so hard that a bursts of pain radiates from his skull, almost like he was pulling out pieces of his hair, the hair which Eddie told him he liked so much. All lies.

He scrambles up from the floor, expertly dodging Eddie who tries to stop him. He rushes towards the bathroom locking it up as soon as the door closes behind him. He falls to his knees as soon as he does, having no energy left to do anything else.

Eddie bangs on the door in alarm. ‘Richie, Richie listen to me. Richie please open the door. It’s alright you just had a nightmare. Let me in baby.’

Richie hear him, but he doesn’t interpret the words. It’s like he’s trying to grasp water, but everytime he focusses on the meaning of one word, the other words escapes him.

While Eddie is still trying to open the door, Richie stretches as best as he can, trying to get the faucet running while he still’s seated. He’s hoping Eddie gets the memo and leaves him alone, but from the sounds of it, Eddie not planning on moving any time soon.

When Richie finally manages to get the water running, he grips the edge of the sink, gathering all his strength to pull himself up. His hands are tingling, having not much feeling in them, and he vaguely recalls that as a sign of an anxiety attack.

The water is ice cold, as it always is, and he cups his hands under the stream, splashing it in his face in an effort to calm down. It helps, albeit slightly, and he drops his head against the edge of the sink. ‘Deep breaths’, he mumbles, and then when Eddie is still trying to talk to him he adds, ‘please shut up’. He feels guilty as soon as he says it, mostly because Eddie doesn’t deserve it, but also because he has never been so rude to him before.

He tries to remember the techniques his psychologist taught him, but it’s hard when everything was still so hazy. He knows he’s supposed to place a hand on his chest and stomach though, taking a deep breath in and feeling his chest expand with it, and then exhaling while feeling his other hand move with his belly.

He opens his eyes, not sure when he had closed him, seeing Eddie’s toothbrush, and Eddie’s bathrobe, and Eddie’s favorite towel, and Eddie’s perfume and everything Eddie, and he chokes again. He can’t be here, he can’t be in a place that has so many memories of Eddie present. He looks towards the door. The banging of Eddie’s fist have stopped, but his voice is still slipping under the door. Richie wants the voice to stop, but he also doesn’t.

He wants to be close to Eddie, but he also can’t, because if he’s given that, if he’s allowed to hold him, than he might not ever be able to physically let him go. Emotionally he already knows that he’ll never be able to get over this heartbreak, but hopes that he can get past his own selfishness, Eddie shouldn’t have to suffer for Richie’s mistakes. 

His hands shake when he reaches for the doorknob, so it takes him a lot longer to fumble the door open than it usually does. When he does manages to open it, Eddie is still standing in front of it. He might be small and compact, but with the way he’s positioned, he’s blocking the entire door entrance.

If he had any breath left, Richie would ask him to move out of the way, but he doesn’t even have to try, for Eddie already rushes to the side. Richie sees him grab a glass of water he must have gotten while he was in the bathroom, but he doesn’t take it.

Instead he slips past him, speed walking towards their front door while he searches for a jacket he’s sure he threw around here somewhere. Eddie drops the glass on their bedside table swiftly, following Richie as close as he can.

‘Richie, what are you doing? Rich?’ He asks, reaching for any part of Richie that he can touch.

‘I need to go’, Richie answers him, ducking to the ground when he finally finds his coat, pulling it on in a hurry.

‘Richie, stop. I don’t know what you’ve dreamed about but whatever it is, it was just that, a dream.’

He tries to snatch a shoe away when Richie pulling one on, but Richie anticipates this and holds it just out of his reach.

When he glances up at Eddie, he sees that he’s near tears, looking frightened out of his mind. Richie struggles to understand why he hasn’t left again or yet, he’s not sure. ‘Eds, Eddie’, he correct himself again. Eddie looks like he was punched by the correction. ‘I can’t see you leave again, please, don’t wait until I get back to leave.’

‘Richie It was just a dream, get back inside’, he hears Eddie calling out to him, but he’s already out the door and rushing down the street. ‘Richie’, Eddie yells out one last time, then Richie is too far to hear anything he says.

He walks around his neighborhood for a while, inhaling the fresh air that the cool winter night brings forth. He’s absolutely freezing, but it’s only when he looks down that he notices that he’s still wearing his pajamas.

He shrugs it off, there’s nothing he can do about it now anyway. He keeps up a fast pace until he can see the small park that Richie had discovered when they were house hunting. Only then does he feel like he can breath again. His anxiety attack has passed, but his sadness has not.

He can’t believe he’s fallen back to the scared little boy he was when he was growing up. Repulsed by himself, back to yearning for Eddie but not being able to come to close to him.

He chooses a bunch that’s slightly covered by trees, a sort of hidden spot. He likes it, and he’s been there a few times when Eddie was at work and he felt lonely, or sad. Like when he had gotten a very negative comment after a standup show, or when his aunt had opened her mouth about him being gay again. There was something about that spot that made Richie feel like everything would be okay again.

When he sits down, he cries. He weeps for so long and so hard he forgets all about how cold he feels, or that it must look ridiculous to people who were passing him. An adult man, a celebrity no less, crying in his stupid flannel pajamas at god knows what hour.

When the tears dry out and his head clears up, he conflicted about what to think. He was sure he had seen Eddie leave, but Eddie was also there when he had woken up. He can’t separate reality from imagination. He mulls everything over in his head, but the fogginess remains. This is his worst nightmare coming through, Eddie leaving him, and for him to go back to his shitty wife.

Richie had met Myra only once, and he absolutely hated everything about her. He hated her even more than Sonia, and that was saying something. Richie sniffled determinately. If Eddie was leaving him, Richie was going to make damn well sure he wasn’t getting back together with his shitty ex. 

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from the trail leading up to the bench. Beverly’s face peaked out from behind a few branches?

‘Oh’, Beverly lets out a sigh of relief when she spots him. ‘Richie, thank god.’ She runs up to him, opening her arms and bringing him in a warm and gentle embrace. Richie allows her.

‘Oh thank god Richie, do you have any idea how worried we all were?’

Richie shakes his head, feeling guilt already building up inside him. ‘Richie, honey, I’m going to take you home alright?’

Richie shakes his head resolutely. He wants everything but to go home. Ideally, he would stay here on the bench for a little while longer, but now that his minds is no longer occupied by crying, he notices how cold he really is.

‘Can’t be there when Eddie leaves,’ he mumbles as quietly as he can. Beverly caresses his hair, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

‘Oh no Rich, he’s not leaving. He loves you honey. Just trust me alright, let’s go home.’

She holds his hand all the way until they get to her car, before she buckles him in the car as if he’s a child who can’t do it for himself.

When she gets into the drives seat, she takes out her cellphone out of her pocket. ‘I found it,’ Beverly tells the person on the other side of the phone call. Richie can just make out that she’s talking to Eddie, but he can’t hear what Eddie says.

He suddenly feels dead tired. He squeezes his eyes shut, leaning his head against the window. It’s not long before they start driving home. ‘how did you know where I went?’ He asks when they’re nearly at the beginning of the street he lives in. It takes a while for the car to get there, but Richie can’t remember having walked so far.

‘Eddie called in a panic,’ Beverly answers his question. ‘He was all panicked saying that you had a nightmare and you had run off, and that he needed help to find you.’ She places her delicate, soft hand on his arm. ‘He was so worried Richie. If he was planning on leaving you, he wouldn’t have gone through this much trouble. He loves you so much.’

And yeah, maybe she’s right, Richie thinks when the car comes to a stop. Maybe he was panicked and couldn’t think straight, but he had been so sure that Eddie was leaving him, and a little doubt stayed in his mind regardless.

Eddie’s already waiting on the porch when Richie staggers out of the car, meeting him halfway. He’s been crying, just like he did when he told Richie he was leaving, or in his dream, Richie’s still not sure. He still looks so beautiful, no matter what the circumstances are.

He stops a step away from Richie, looking like he would want nothing more but to hug Richie, but he expects that it probably won’t be accepted from him right now. He’s wrong, Richie wants a hug from Eddie so bad that can’t manage to think of anything else.

‘I’m sorry,’ Richie blurted, before circling his arms around Eddie, who reciprocated immediately.

Eddie swipes his hand over Richie’s back, all the way up to the nap of his neck, where he caresses the strands of his hair as lovingly as he can. It a far mile from the Eddie he usually is, energetic and intense. Now he’s slow and doing everything softly.

‘It’s okay Rich. But you need to know that I would never, ever leave you okay? You’re never getting rid of me.’ He chuckles reassuring.

When Richie shivers Eddie pulls back, but keeping his arms still around his middle. ‘Let’s get inside okay?’ He waits for Richie permission before they both step inside. Eddie stands op his tiptoes to press a kiss to Richie’s forehead. ‘Go to the bathroom okay? I just need a second to talk to Bev and Ben and the other losers on the phone, and then I’ll be right there.’

The sick feeling of guilt crawls through Richie’s body again. He made all his friends so worried, and all of them were awake in the middle of the night because of him.

He drags himself up the stairs, now that he’s back into his home, he’s feeling exhaustion pulling at his bones. He want to take a bath so he can warm up, but mostly he just really want to spend some time with Eddie, to help calm down his racing heart. So he gets into the shower and washes himself off in record time, until Eddie is coming to the bathroom, and he brought along a new set of shirt and a comfortable sweatpants. He lays them out on the counter, waiting until Richie pulls them on before grabbing a brash and carefully combing his curls.

They do this often, an effective way of calming them down. It works this time too, and by the time Eddie is done gently brushing his hair, Richie is half-asleep on his feet. Eddie’s lips press to his cheek, one time, then a second and a third, before Eddie is grabbing his hands and guiding him to their bed.

Eddie thumbs sweeps over the back of Richie’s hand. He pulls back the covers, both of them shuffling to the middle with their hands still clasped together tightly. It’s dark again in the room, but Richie can still perfectly make out the shape of Eddie’s face.

He is still looking worried, but he smiles when Richie looks at him. ‘I’m sorry’, Richie repeats again, meaning it more everytime he says it.

Eddie shushes him. ‘It’s okay Rich, we’ll talk about it in the morning. Another kiss is pressed to his forehead. ‘Just get some sleep,’ Eddie mouths against Richie’s skin.

Then he pulls back, tugging at Richie until he gets the memo and places his head on Eddie’s chest. The scar that Pennywise gives him creating a rift in an otherwise perfect skin, and though Eddie hates it, Richie loves it. It’s a sign that Eddie is still alive, still here.

Richie places a hand on the scar to feel it. He can hear Eddie’s heartbeat under his ear, lulling him towards sleep. Just before he get pulled under, he can make out Eddie voice, nearly inaudibly humming along to a song Richie’s too tired to make out.

‘I love you, and only you Richie, don’t you ever forget it. You’re the only one that has ever made me feel completely happy and complete. There’s not a bone in my body, that would ever even think about leaving you. Now go to sleep so I can make fun of you in the morning.’ Eddie says playfully. 

‘I love you too’, Richie manages to slur out, and the last thing he takes notice of, before he is pulled under, is the laughing that radiates from Eddie. Richie beams with it, the knowledge that he can make Eddie laugh. When Richie wakes up the next morning, Eddie is still there, just like he’ll be for the rest of their lives.

Not even an a day after the horrific night Richie’s had, Eddie proves to him he’s in it for life. He proposes on the same bench Richie had sat when he cried. He cries again, but this time, it’s from happiness.


End file.
